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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   SAN  DIEGO 
Mil  III  III   III  II  II 111 


3  1822  02772  6702 


ELISABETH  REBECCA  SPRAGUE 
A  TRIBUTE 


BOSTON  :  PRIVATELY  PRINTED 
MDCCCCV 


THE  RIVERSIDE   PRESS,   CAMBRIDGE 


When  hearts  whose  truth  was  proven, 
Like  thine  are  laid  in  earth, 

There  should  a  wreath  be  woven 
To  tell  the  world  their  worth. 


This  is  the  story  of  a  quiet  life,  a  life  for  the 
most  part  devoted  to  the  nearest  duties.  Yet 
this  quiet  life  was  so  full  of  wide  and  ever- 
widening  influence  and  beneficence,  so  rich  in 
friendships,  so  inspiring  in  its  example  of  devo- 
tion to  duty,  whether  to  the  family  or  the  state, 
so  beautiful  in  its  loving  kindness  and  exqui- 
site courtesy  of  daily  habit  of  intercourse,  so 
deeply  encouraging  in  its  never  flagging 
growth,  that  its  story  is  the  right  of  those  who 
loved  her. 

It  is  interesting,  also,  as  the  portrait  of  a 
New  England  gentlewoman  living  during  a 
most  picturesque  epoch  of  our  history,  con- 
nected by  her  birth  and  position  with  the  most 
eminent  of  New  England,  associated  with  all 
the  forces  of  the  time. 

Most  of  all  is  it  a  life  to  give  hope.  The 
service  to  her  family,  her  state,  and  her  coun- 
try was  not  the  less  important  that  it  was  given 


so  unobtrusively.  She  was  a  blessing  to  her 
kindred  and  her  friends,  and  an  ever  present 
help  to  the  poor  and  needy.  Nor  did  this  power 
of  helpfulness  wane  with  the  years;  rather  it 
grew  steadily  and  continuously  as  years  ad- 
vanced. 

And  finally,  from  the  days  when  a  laughing, 
quick-witted,  and  high-spirited  child,  some- 
times sharp  of  tongue  to  her  followers,  but 
always  generous,  loyal,  and  loving,  played 
in  Pemberton  Square,  with  the  ample  old 
Georgian  houses  blinking  their  many  paned 
windows  above  their  wrought-iron  balconies, 
and  the  old-fashioned  doorplates  bearing  his- 
toric names  on  their  shining  brass,  to  the  days 
when  the  courteous  and  gracious  lady  whom 
we  all  loved  gathered  her  friends  about  her 
in  her  stately  drawing-room  on  the  noble 
avenue  which  had  not  so  much  as  a  foothold 
during  her  childhood,  it  was  a  happy  life  —  a 
life  of  many  keen  sorrows,  but  a  happy  life; 
and  the  happiness  as  well  as  the  sorrow  sprang 
from  her  unselfish  love.  She  was  a  happy 
daughter  and  sister,  and  a  most  happy  wife; 
this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her  mother  died, 


that  her  father's  health  gave  way  immediately 
after,  making  him  dependent  on  her  care  for 
the  short  remainder  of  his  life,  that  her  hus- 
band's father  was  an  invalid,  confined  to  his 
room  for  many  years,  and  later,  that  one  by 
one  the  brothers  and  sisters  whom  she  loved 
left  the  world,  until  she  was  the  last  of  her 
family.  Through  sickness,  through  loss  and 
anxiety,  through  weary  bodily  pain,  her  high 
courage  remained  and  her  daily  cheerfulness. 

Surely  such  a  life  has  an  enduring  inspiration. 

The  one  who  knew  her  best  has  briefly 
outlined  its  main  events. 

"Mrs.  Sprague  filled  so  large  a  place  in  the 
hearts  of  her  relatives  and  friends,  and  gave 
so  much  of  her  time  and  labor  for  the  benefit 
of  others,  that  her  memory  deserves  some- 
thing more  than  a  passing  notice,  and  claims 
a  recognition  that  shall  endure.  Although  her 
life  was  an  uneventful  one,  it  was  filled  with 
good  deeds  and  kindly  courtesies  and  warm 
affections,  and  behind  these  was  a  personality 
which  created  for  her  a  wide  circle  of  friends 
and  admirers,  to  whom  these  few  words  of 
affectionate  remembrance  are  addressed. 

iii 


Her  father,  John  Amory  Lowell,  widely 
known  for  his  high  character  and  intellect,  and 
as  the  administrator  of  the  Lowell  Institute, 
was  twice  married,  first  to  Susan  Cabot  Lowell, 
who  had  two  children,  a  son  and  a  daughter; 
second  to  Elizabeth  Cabot  Putnam,  a  daugh- 
ter of  Judge  Putnam  of  Salem,  by  whom  he 
had  one  son  and  three  daughters.  Mrs. 
Sprague  was  the  eldest  of  the  daughters  by 
the  second  marriage,  and  the  last  survivor  of 
the  six  brothers  and  sisters. 

The  Lowells  were  of  distinguished  family, 
and  held  high  place  both  in  the  social  and 
intellectual  world.  Their  home  exemplified 
the  best  traits  of  New  England  life,  and  was 
the  scene  of  much  pleasant  hospitality.  The 
mother  of  Mrs.  Sprague  was  a  hostess  of  rare 
grace  and  dignity,  and  her  entertainments  had 
an  air  of  distinction  not  easily  equaled;  but 
her  great  object  in  life  was  the  welfare  of 
her  family  and  those  near  to  her,  and  to  these 
she  gave  unremitting  care  and  devotion.  Her 
daughter  inherited  her  disinterestedness  and 
self-sacrificing  spirit,  and  was  always  ready 
to  help  others. 

iv 


Such  opportunities  readily  occur  when  one's 
thoughts  are  turned  towards  them,  and  Mrs. 
Sprague,  in  the  midst  of  her  social  duties 
and  pleasures,  found  time  to  give  assistance 
in  many  directions.  She  was  early  interested 
in  charitable  work  and  charitable  societies. 
She  labored  zealously  in  the  ranks  of  the  Sani- 
tary Commission,  organized  during  our  Civil 
War,  and  appealing  especially  to  the  women 
of  the  country  for  aid  in  its  task  of  minister- 
ing to  the  wants  of  our  soldiers.  She  helped 
largely  in  the  work  of  her  church,  the  historic 
King's  Chapel,  for  which  she  had  a  love  and 
loyalty  that  never  ceased. 

As  time  went  on  her  sympathies  and  inter- 
ests enlarged,  and  she  took  part  in  more  public 
matters.  A  true  Bostonian,  anything  connected 
with  the  history  or  improvement  of  her  native 
city  appealed  to  her;  and  fortunately  of  late 
years  the  influence  of  women  has  been  brought 
to  bear  on  many  civic  questions.  The  preser- 
vation of  our  State  House,  which  a  few  years 
since  was  in  great  danger  of  being  torn  down, 
to  be  replaced  by  a  new  structure,  was  largely 
the  work  of  patriotic  women,  and  among  these 


Mrs.  Sprague  was  an  earnest  and  efficient  co- 
worker. 

The  limitation  of  the  height  of  buildings 
and  the  enforcement  of  the  law  concerning 
them,  the  saving  from  destruction  of  the  Old 
South  Church,  the  protection  of  the  Common 
from  encroachment  of  various  kinds,  and  the 
preservation  of  its  trees  were  some  of  the  mat- 
ters in  which  she  was  actively  interested  by 
word  and  deed.  She  was  foremost  in  the  at- 
tempt made  several  years  ago,  by  means  of  an 
appeal  to  the  city  government,  to  relieve  the 
main  thoroughfares  of  the  city  from  the  crowd 
of  electric  cars,  which  at  that  time  were  a 
source  of  great  danger  and  inconvenience. 
Although  this  appeal  had  no  immediate  result, 
its  force  and  the  way  it  was  presented  aroused 
public  attention  to  the  necessity  of  some  rem- 
edy, and  led,  through  much  opposition,  to  the 
construction  of  the  subway.  Later,  when  the 
railway  company  sought  to  replace  the  tracks 
on  Tremont  Street  on  the  plea  of  public  con- 
venience, she  was  among  those  who  opposed 
this  return  to  old  conditions,  and  who,  de- 
spite the  influence  of  a  powerful  corporation 

vi 


and  a  hostile  press,  finally  won  over  the  sup- 
port of  the  public,  and  defeated  the  measure. 

These  large  questions,  while  holding  a  place 
in  her  thoughts,  and  benefiting  by  her  energy 
and  liberality,  were  not  allowed  to  interfere 
with  other  claims,  or  those  daily  duties  which 
seem  so  insignificant  in  detail,  yet  in  bulk  are 
so  important.  She  had  no  desire  to  attract 
public  notice,  but  was  essentially  a  domestic 
person,  who  found  pleasure  in  her  charities, 
in  the  activities  and  intercourse  of  daily  life, 
and  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  her  family  or 
friends.  Her  charities  were  many,  and  re- 
ceived a  large  share  of  her  attention.  Some 
of  them,  which  remained  unchanged,  were  of 
long  standing.  In  one  society  she  served 
thirty-eight  years ;  in  another  thirty-two  years ; 
in  a  third  twenty-three  years.  This  did  not 
mean  a  mere  formal  membership,  but  an 
active  participation  in  all  that  concerned  the 
society  and  its  work.  Where  she  could  not  give 
of  her  services,  she  gave  of  her  means. 

What  has  been  written  may  serve  in  some 
degree  to  indicate  how  full  her  life  was,  and 
how  broad  were  the  channels  in  which  it  ran, 


VII 


but  her  many  occupations  and  all  that  she  ac- 
complished in  more  private  ways  cannot  well 
be  recorded.  It  is  still  more  difficult  to  describe 
the  spirit  that  animated  all  she  did,  or  the 
qualities  of  mind  and  heart  that  attracted  to 
her  so  many  friends.  The  foundation  of  her 
character  was  a  practical  wisdom  and  good 
sense,  combined  with  a  loyalty,  a  sympathy, 
and  a  disinterestedness  unsurpassed.  She  had 
great  energy  and  industry,  and  a  perseverance 
that  carried  through  whatever  she  undertook, 
no  matter  how  long  or  tiresome  the  task.  She 
accomplished  much  because  she  had  the  envi- 
able faculty  of  utilizing  those  fragments  of  time 
that  appear  of  so  little  consequence,  yet  can  be 
made  so  productive.  She  seized  upon  the  spare 
half  hours,  or  even  the  few  stray  moments,  she 
found  at  her  disposal,  and  made  them  serve 
her  purpose.  She  possessed,  moreover,  the 
accompanying  gift  of  being  able  to  turn  read- 
ily from  one  subject  to  another.  Interruption 
seldom  troubled  her,  and  she  could  resume 
whatever  had  previously  occupied  her  thoughts 
without  difficulty.  As  might  be  inferred,  her 
mind  worked  easily  and  directly,  going  straight 


VUl 


to  the  substance  of  the  matter  before  her.  This 
was  especially  noticeable  in  her  writing.  She 
wrote  without  hesitancy,  yet  expressed  herself 
with  a  clearness  and  compactness  that  rarely 
required  revision.  If  consultation  suggested 
a  change  on  some  occasions,  it  was  almost 
invariably  one  of  minor  importance. 

She  was  one  of  the  incorporators  of  the 
Society  of  Colonial  Dames  of  America,  and  its 
first  registrar,  holding  that  office  for  ten  years, 
and  resigning  a  year  before  her  death.  Those 
familiar  with  the  society  know  something  of 
the  registrar's  duties,  but  it  may  be  said  in 
brief,  that  through  her  hands  passed  all  the 
papers,  genealogical  and  otherwise,  connected 
with  the  admission  of  new  members;  and  that 
she  was  the  person  to  whom  all  applicants 
turned  for  instruction  or  advice.  As  the  many 
descendants  of  Massachusetts  families  are  to 
be  found  in  all  parts  of  the  Union,  this  implied 
a  wide  correspondence  which  was  perhaps 
especially  voluminous  in  the  earlier  years  of 
the  society  before  its  scope  and  purpose  were 
fully  understood.  Any  new  society,  even  if 
framed  on  the  experience  of  others,  finds  many 

ix 


unforeseen  questions  to  deal  with;  and  the 
registrar  had  not  only  to  systematize  her  de- 
partment, but  to  answer  numberless  inquiries, 
some  of  them  requiring  much  consideration, 
and  a  wise  interpretation  of  rules,  which  had 
not  then  been  fairly  tested  or  acquired  the 
authority  of  a  precedent.  The  amount  of 
writing  involved  was  very  great,  and  she  added 
to  her  labor  by  her  anxiety  to  assist  applicants 
in  every  possible  way,  and  the  pains  she  took 
to  soften  her  refusals  when  these  were  neces- 
sary. 

Her  family  relations  were  of  the  closest 
and  warmest.  While  all  the  members  of  the 
family  were  strongly  united,  Mrs.  Sprague  and 
her  two  younger  sisters,  Mrs.  Lyman  and  Mrs. 
Blake,  were  especially  drawn  together  by  asso- 
ciation and  feeling.  The  early  marriage  of 
Mrs.  Lyman,  the  one  next  her  in  age,  which 
took  place  before  the  others,  gave  her  an  op- 
portunity to  be  of  much  affectionate  assistance. 
Mrs.  Lyman's  devotion  to  the  cares  of  a  grow- 
ing family  often  overtaxed  her  strength.  On 
such  occasions,  and  indeed  at  all  times,  Mrs. 
Sprague  was  at  hand,  seeking  to  be  of  service, 


and  her  cheery  presence  was  of  almost  daily 
occurrence  in  the  household.  To  the  children 
she  gave  a  companionship  and  loving  care 
second  only  to  that  of  a  mother;  and  they  in 
return  repaid  her  with  an  overflowing  affec- 
tion and  appreciation.  On  all  like  occasions, 
when  sympathy  or  help  could  be  given,  and 
in  all  family  happenings,  her  first  thought  was 
how  to  be  of  service. 

The  fact  that  she  had  no  children  permitted 
her  to  devote  much  time  to  her  parents,  and 
in  the  case  of  her  mother's  long  illness  to  be  a 
constant  companion.  After  her  mother's  death, 
her  father  was  left  alone  and  in  broken  health, 
and  Mrs.  Sprague  went  to  live  with  him,  and 
take  charge  of  his  household.  The  watchful- 
ness and  anxiety  caused  by  his  condition  taxed 
her  strength  so  severely  that  after  some  months 
her  physician  compelled  her  to  give  up  her 
post  in  order  to  avoid  a  complete  breakdown. 
Her  father's  death  took  place  shortly  after, 
and  it  was  her  lasting  regret  that  she  had  not 
been  able  to  be  his  companion  until  the  end, 
Her  health  was  restored  by  a  voyage  to  Europe 
and  a  thorough  rest. 


XI 


She  was  exceedingly  fond  of  children,  and 
it  was  a  delight  to  her  to  make  friends  with 
them  and  win  their  confidence,  which  she 
easily  accomplished.  Her  many  nieces  and 
nephews  were  at  all  ages  an  unending  source 
of  pleasure,  and  nothing  gave  her  greater 
gratification  than  a  visit  from  them,  or  a  call 
upon  her  hospitality.  She  was  so  young  in 
her  feelings  that  she  could  interpret  their 
thoughts  and  wishes,  and  enter  into  all  matters 
that  concerned  them  with  an  interest  similar 
to  their  own. 

In  addition  to  this  youthfulness  of  feeling, 
and  perhaps  somewhat  fostered  by  it,  was  an 
inborn  shyness  and  modesty  that  she  never 
outgrew,  and  that  at  times  prevented  her  from 
taking  her  fitting  position  and  assuming  a  re- 
sponsibility for  which  she  was  abundantly 
qualified.  She  shrank  from  public  situations, 
or  the  putting  forth  of  her  opinion  in  any 
public  manner;  but  when  occasion  demanded, 
her  earnestness  of  purpose  overcame  her  hesi- 
tation, and  she  spoke  clearly  and  well. 

She  was  keenly  alive  to  the  affection  and 
demonstrations  of  regard  of  her  friends,  which 


xii 


she  repaid  in  full;  but  her  modesty  did  not 
allow  her  to  appreciate  how  many  people  felt 
a  personal  friendship  toward  her,  either  from 
correspondence  or  from  having  been  thrown 
with  her  in  working  for  some  common  end. 
On  these  occasions  and  in  her  many  societies, 
her  high  standards,  her  courtesy,  amiability, 
and  good  sense,  invariably  won  esteem,  and 
it  was  the  one  most  frequently  brought  in 
contact  with  her  in  discussing  certain  ques- 
tions who  spoke  of  her  as  "so  high  minded," 
and  was  the  foremost  in  consulting  her  opinion. 
Mrs.  Sprague  was  a  person  with  whom 
loyalty  was  a  predominant  trait.  As  has  been 
already  said,  it  was  a  part  of  her  nature.  She 
was  loyal  to  her  family,  her  friends,  her  church, 
to  whatever  cause  she  undertook.  One  sees 
such  a  number  of  persons  in  the  world  whose 
opinions,  even  when  established,  are  so  easily 
influenced,  who  change  with  the  wind  or  cher- 
ish indifference  as  a  virtue,  thinking  it  a  mark 
of  superiority,  that  it  is  comforting  to  find  some 
one  with  firm  convictions,  unhesitating,  and 
outspoken  in  their  support.  Mrs.  Sprague's 
beliefs  were  of  the  positive,  not  the  negative 

xiii 


kind ;  and  if  they  led  at  times  to  expressions 
of  disapproval,  down  in  her  heart  was  a  kind- 
liness that  only  needed  opportunity  to  assert 
itself,  and  obliterate  all  feelings  of  censure. 
Her  criticism  was  evanescent,  her  charity 
deep  and  lasting.  Pervading  all  she  did,  and 
making  a  part  of  it,  was  her  cheerfulness.  This 
was  partly  natural  and  the  result  of  faculties 
well  employed,  but  also  took  strength  from 
her  determination  to  look  on  the  bright  side 
and  her  courageous  acceptance  of  whatever 
trouble  came  to  her.  In  her  final  illness,  at- 
tended by  paroxysms  of  acute  pain,  she  kept 
this  resolute  cheerfulness  unchanged,  always 
greeting  her  household  with  a  smile,  and  with 
thanks  for  any  service  rendered.  In  the  shadow 
of  these  last  days,  she  was  uniformly  patient, 
considerate,  grateful,  and  uncomplaining. 

As  we  think  of  her  loss  it  seems  to  become 
greater.  She  was  the  centre  of  such  a  large 
circle,  she  so  made  a  part  of  the  life  of  those 
about  her,  that  we  cannot  get  accustomed  to 
her  absence,  and  the  irremediable  void  it 
leaves.  Perhaps  the  feeling  of  many  may 
be  described  in  the  words  of    a  woman   in 


XIV 


her  employ,  a  faithful  friend  and  dependent, 
who  had  worked  for  her  for  over  thirty  years. 
"I  cannot  get  used  to  Mrs.  Sprague's  death, 
but  feel  it  more  and  more.  Whenever  I  was  in 
trouble,  and  I  have  had  some  sad  experiences, 
she  would  sympathize  with  me,  and  advise  me 
and  comfort  me.  In  any  perplexity  or  trial  1 
went  to  her,  and  in  any  good  fortune  she  would 
rejoice  with  me.  Now  she  is  gone,  I  have  no 
one  to  turn  to,  as  I  could  to  her,  and  the  world 
seems  a  different  place." 

As  we  look  back  upon  her  life,  that  busy, 
useful  existence,  vibrating  with  activity,  en- 
ergy, and  purpose,  those  many  years  filled 
with  devotion,  disinterestedness,  and  affec- 
tion, that  example  of  loyalty,  cheerfulness,  and 
courage,  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  places 
that  once  knew  her  shall  know  her  no  more; 
that  her  kindred  and  friends  have  seen  her 
welcoming  smile  for  the  last  time,  that  those 
dependent  upon  her  will  never  receive  of  her 
bounty  or  counsel  again;  but  her  memory  re- 
mains with  us  as  a  benediction,  and  for  the 
record  of  her  life  it  is  written  in  the  hearts  of 
her  friends." 


XV 


The  present  writer,  in  talking  with  the  kin- 
dred and  friends  of  Mrs.  Sprague,  has  come 
upon  some  pleasant  pictures  of  the  days  of  her 
youth,  the  days  before  the  Back  Bay  had  being, 
when  Boston  was  so  compact  and  quiet  that 
little  children  played  unattended  in  Pemberton 
Square,  and  all  society  attended  the  lectures 
of  the  Lowell  Institute.  Those  were  the  days 
when  some  old-fashioned  gentlemen  still  wore 
ruffles  to  their  shirts  and  removed  their  bell- 
shaped  hats  with  a  graceful  curve,  and  chil- 
dren not  only  loved  their  parents,  but  obeyed 
them.  They  even  obeyed  their  deputies.  One 
of  Mrs.  Sprague's  intimates  in  those  days  has 
a  pretty,  quaint  story  of  her  first  visit  to  the 
little  Lissie,  and  how  with  vague  trepidation, 
after  they  sat  down  at  table  she  saw  the  older 
brother,  Augustus,  produce  a  plate  of  crusts, 
saying  severely,  "Lissie,  mother  says  you've 
got  to  eat  every  one  of  those  crusts  before  you 
can  eat  anything  else!" 

The  small  guest  glanced  at  her  friend,  who 
was  a  high-spirited  child.  Mrs.  Lowell,  as  well 
as  Mr.  Lowell,  was  away;  the  children  were 
quite  by  themselves.  But  although  the  little  girl 

xvi 


protested,  she  surrendered,  she  ate  every  one  of 
the  scorned  crusts.  In  spite  of  the  authoritative 
pose  of  youth,  the  relation  between  the  brother 
and  sister,  even  then,  was  peculiarly  close  and 
tender,  and  his  unselfish  care  for  his  sister's 
interests  grew  with  the  years. 

Long  after,  during  the  first  desolation  of  his 
loss,  she  wrote  of  him  to  one  of  her  nieces  in 
these  touching  words :  — 

"No  one  knows  all  that  he  has  been  to  me 
and  done  for  me  ever  since  we  were  little  chil- 
dren together,  and  I  have  leaned  upon  him 
always  for  help  and  advice  never  refused  me. 
Few  people  have  such  a  brother,  and  I  am  very 
grateful  to  have  had  him,  even  if  I  must  give 
him  up  now  —  and  I  must  try  to  be  as  brave 
as  he  would  have  wished  me  to  be.  He  ad- 
mired fortitude  always." 

The  Lowells  indeed  were  a  most  united  fam- 
ily, devoted  to  each  other,  while  interested  in 
all  their  world. 

It  was  while  the  Lowells  lived  in  Pemberton 
Square  that  Mrs.  Lowell  held  the  Saturday 
receptions  of  which  the  memory  still  is  fra- 
grant. Her  own  beauty,  charm,  and  tact,  and 
her   husband's   high    character   and    position 

xvii 


drew  about  them  a  remarkable  circle.  At  this 
time  there  were  living  in  or  about  Pemberton 
Square,  on  Temple  Place,  on  Summer  Street, 
on  Chestnut  Street  and  Beacon  Hill,  many  of 
the  old  Boston  families  in  which  distinction 
seems  hereditary,  and  whose  strong  hands 
have  helped  shape  the  conduct  of  the  common- 
wealth in  every  generation.  The  Winthrops, 
the  Endicotts,  the  Cabots,  the  Everetts,  the 
Lowells,  the  Crowninshields,  the  Putnams,  the 
Peabodys,  the  Lawrences,  the  Ticknors,  the 
Russells,  the  Bryants,  the  Perkinses,  the  Eliots, 
the  Shaws,  the  Amorys,  were  all  more  or  less 
connected  by  marriage  or  neighborly  ties,  and 
they  were  all  prominent  figures  in  the  social 
life  of  the  time. 

Boston  was  linked  as  closely  then  with  Sa- 
lem and  Cambridge  as  now.  The  Lowell  fam- 
ily had  cousins  and  friends  in  Cambridge  who 
visited  them  often  and  had  uniquely  delightful 
visits. 

Picturesque  as  life  was  in  Boston,  it  was 
happier  and  more  picturesque  in  Mr.  Low- 
ell's country  seat  at  Roxbury.  A  visit  to  it  is 
thus  described  by  one  of  the  cousins :  — 


XVlll 


"My  earliest  distinct  recollection  of  my 
cousin  Lissie  is  of  her  kindness  to  my  trouble- 
some self  on  a  certain  Sunday  afternoon  in 
Roxbury,  where  I  had  been  invited  to  make 
a  visit  to  my  playmate  Ella.  Whether  it  -was 
the  coming  of  so  many  strangers  as  were  as- 
sembled for  Sunday  evening  tea,  or  simply 
that  it  was  my  first  visit  alone  away  from 
home,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  was  seized  with  a 
sudden  homesickness,  and  cried  to  be  taken 
back  to  Boston.  Though  not  more  than  eight 
years  old,  I  can  distinctly  recall  Lissie's  sym- 
pathy with  my  woe  and  the  cheerfulness  with 
which  she  agreed  to  start  away  with  Augustus, 
just  as  tea  was  ready,  to  drive  me  home.  I 
can  also  recall  her  amusement  without  any 
(to  me)  perceptible  sign  of  annoyance,  when 
no  sooner  were  we  well  on  our  way  than  I  be- 
gan to  sing  for  joy.  I  am  very  sure  that  this 
was  my  only  time  of  homesickness  in  Uncle 
Lowell's  family,  where  year  after  year  I  spent 
many  delightful  weeks.  Lissie  and  her  friends 
were  just  enough  older  than  Ella  and  myself 
to  be  regarded  by  us  with  great  respect.  I 
remember  Lissie  at  the  age  of  twelve  as  dread- 
ing an  appointment  at  the  dentist's  and  start- 
ing off  for  Boston  quite  a  heroine  in  our 
estimation ;  whereupon  Ella  and  I,  deeply 
sympathizing,  proceeded  to  play  dentist  and 

xix 


made  a  hole  in  the  cheek  of  one  of  our  favorite 
dolls. 

"The  Roxbury  place  was  a  delightful 
country  seat  in  those  days.  The  old-fash- 
ioned house  was  shaded  by  tall  trees,  mul- 
berry trees,  and  others  in  front.  The  garden 
with  its  box  hedges  stretched  along  to  the 
woods,  where  there  were  green  acorns  and  moss, 
and  in  the  tower  a  dark  wooden  rocking-horse 
which  had  lost  its  legs,  its  ears,  and  its  tail, 
but  was  none  the  less  a  horse  to  us.  Farther 
along  the  path  stood  the  statue  of  Pash,  now 
in  the  Egypt  room  of  the  Museum  of  Fine 
Arts,  the  best  preserved  statue  in  the  collec- 
tion, sent  home  from  Egypt  by  John  Lowell, 
Jr.,  cousin  to  Mr.  John  Amory  Lowell,  and 
founder  of  the  Lowell  lectures.  Not  far  away 
were  the  grapery  and  the  greenhouse  with  its 
rare  orchids.  Miss  Rebecca  Amory  Lowell 
and  Miss  Anna  Cabot  Lowell  had  just  moved 
into  their  cottage  at  Broomley  Side.  The 
wood  extended  over  the  slope  to  the  present 
Broomley  Park,  down  to  a  brook  where 
a  broad  seat  had  been  made  between  the 
branches  of  a  willow  tree  overhanging  the 
water. 

"From  the  piazza  of  the  house  one  en- 
tered the  large  hall,  which  was  papered  with 
scenes  of  huntsmen   and  ladies   in   a  forest. 


XX 


The  dining-room  opened  upon  ;i  garden. 
Some  of  the  rooms  upstairs  were  furnished 
with  dimity  curtains  and  coverings,  and  on 
the  glass  of  one  window  were  some  rhymes 
that  had  been  scratched  upon  it  by  an  earKer 
generation  of  Lowells. 

"Relations  and  friends  used  to  drive  over 
from  Cambridge  and  Watertown  and  Boston, 
especially  for  the  Sunday  evening  teas,  and 
stroll  about  the  garden  and  wood,  as  had  been 
the  custom  when  Uncle  Lowell's  aunts  were 
the  young  people  of  the  house." 

To  go  out  to  Roxbury  was  an  intoxicating 
experience  to  these  well-behaved,  demure  little 
Boston  children  with  their  beautiful  leghorn 
hats  and  their  white  pinafores,  which  must 
always  be  treated  with  respect.  There  was  an 
annual  May  day  picnic.  It  was  a  thrilling 
occasion.  The  children  were  met  and  led  by 
the  Lowells  to  a  certain  wood,  where,  fearless 
of  kidnappers  or  tramps,  they  ate  their  rustic 
feast. 

As  the  Lowell  girls  grew  older  they  learned 
to  enjoy  one  feature  of  the  life  which  probably 
did  not  impress  their  childish  minds.  Many 
men  of  mark  were  the  Lowells'  guests,  for- 

xxi 


eigners  as  well  as  their  own  countrymen, 
drawn  hitherward  by  the  Lowell  Institute 
and  its  administrator.  Sir  Charles  Lyell, 
Agassiz.  Tyndall  among  the  foreigners,  and 
Palfrey,  Sparks,  Bowditch,  Felton.  James 
Russell  Lowell,  and  Rogers  more  particu- 
larly of  the  home  contemporaries,  were  enter- 
tained at  Boston  or  at  Roxbury. 

Agassiz  was  almost  a  child  of  the  house. 
He  went  and  came  at  will.  Neither  Mrs. 
Lowell  nor  the  maids  made  objection  to  the 
pincushions  used  as  butterfly  mats,  or  the 
water-jug  stuffed  with  ferns,  or  even  the  bu- 
reau drawers  turned  into  the  transient  home 
of  what  the  maids  called  "the  professor's 
little  beasts." 

It  may  have  been  at  Mrs.  Lowell's  that 
Mrs.  Agassiz  shrieked  over  her  shoe.  "Louis! 
there's  a  snake  in  it!"  and  the  great  Louis 
anxiously  replied,  "Only  one  snake,  my  dear? 
Why,  where 's  the  other?  There  were  two!" 
But  I  have  been  told  that  Mrs.  Lowell  drew 
the  line  at  snakes. 

The  Lowell  Institute  was  a  feature  of  the 
time.    It  was  the  palmy  age  of  the  Lyceums. 

wii 


Every  one  went  to  lectures  and  discussed 
them.    The  great  orator  of  the  day,  Edward 

Everett,  spoke  the  universal  sentiment  when 
he  closed  his  introduction  to  the  lectures  and 
his  account  of  the  founder  with  a  glowing 
tribute  to  the  future  usefulness  awaiting  such 
an  institution  and  the  prophesy  that  it  would 
perpetuate  forever  the  name  of  Lowell. 

The  lectures  were  of  extraordinary  ability, 
and  affected  the  thought  of  all  cultivated 
people.  But  they  waned  in  compelling  inter- 
est before  the  rapidly  approaching  storm  in 
national  affairs.  The  anti-slavery  agitation 
was  spreading  like  a  fire,  bringing  anger,  fear, 
and  discord  in  its  wake,  as  well  as  pity  and 
high  devotion.  Most  of  the  leading  Boston 
families  were  conservative,  but  young  James 
Russell  Lowell,  and  young  Sumner,  and 
some  of  the  Shaws  had  joined  the  Radicals. 
There  was  no  lack  of  excitement  in  the  world 
into  which  young  Elizabeth  Lowell  stepped, 
after  her  happy  childhood  and  her  school- 
days. An  old  friend  of  hers  gives  this  little  hint 
of  a  sketch :  — 

"Lissie  was  not  quite  a  young  lady  then. 

XXIII 


We  were  too  young  to  go  to  parties,  but  we 
went  to  the  bread  and  butter  dances,  as  they 
were  called.  She  had  the  most  lovely  arms 
and  shoulders,  and  she  was  always  beauti- 
fully dressed,  and  I  used  to  admire  her  so 
much!" 

She  was  a  spirited,  witty  young  woman,  but 
all  her  old  intimates  speak  of  her  sensitive 
modesty  and  her  shyness.  Of  course  she  was 
moved  by  the  mighty  passions  of  the  time. 
As  she  grew  older  the  tragic  march  of  events 
reached  the  whirlpool  of  civil  war.  Her  young 
kinsmen  and  friends  passed  over  Beacon  Hill. 
No  doubt  she  saw  among  them  some  of  the 
cousins  whose  names  on  the  tablet  over  the 
gates  of  Soldiers'  Field  have  moved  how 
many  young  hearts;  but  she  did  not  see  Shaw 
ride  by  at  the  head  of  his  black  regiment  or 
turn  for  the  last  boyish  smile  and  wave  of 
his  hand  to  his  wife.  At  this  time  the  Lowells 
were  in  Europe.  They  went  for  the  benefit  of 
Mr.  Lowell's  health,  remaining  over  a  year. 
Often  afterwards  Mrs.  Sprague  used  to  tell 
of  the  innumerable  small  trials  and  irritations 
caused   by   the   general    sympathy    with    the 

XXIV 


cause  of  the  South.    They  had  great  difficulty 
in  getting  any  news,  as  the  French  papers  kept 
back  bulletins  favorable  to  the  Federals,  and 
gave  but  scant  accounts  when  there  remained 
no   doubt   of   their   victories.      Indeed,    they 
heard   of   the   battle   of   Gettysburg   through 
the  American  minister  some  time  before  the 
French  newspapers  published  any  news  about 
it.   Upon  their  return  to  America,  Mrs.  Lowell 
and  her  older  daughter  were  deeply  interested 
in  the  work  of  the  Sanitary  Commission.    To 
the  Boston  headquarters  of  the  Commission 
came  boxes  and  bundles  from  all  parts  of  the 
State,  which   required    arranging   and   redis- 
tributing. From  one  of  these  bundles,  on  which 
she    was    employed,    Mrs.    Sprague    caught 
scarlet  fever.    Though  fortunately  the  disease 
was  not  of  a  dangerous  type,  it  was  a  suffi- 
ciently severe  experience.    After  the  war  she 
had  other  vivid  interests.     She  was  always 
devoted  to  her  sisters  and  their  families.    At 
the  time  of  her  sister  Ella's  marriage,  she  did 
wonders  of  fine  hemming  and  embroidery  on 
the   wedding   linen.      She   was   an   exquisite 
needlewoman  all  her  life. 


xxv 


Her  brothers'  and  sisters'  children  were 
none  the  less  her  joy  after  her  own  marriage. 
She  was  so  fortunate  as  to  have  a  husband 
who  entered  into  all  her  interests,  who  gave 
her  not  only  counsel  and  aid,  but  a  never 
failing  sympathy.  In  return,  his  interests,  his 
hopes,  and  his  cares  became  her  very  own. 
Dr.  Sprague's  parents  were  in  feeble  health. 
It  was  their  son's  custom  to  give  up  a  certain 
time  every  day  to  visiting  them.  He  let  no- 
thing avoidable  interfere  with  this  duty,  and 
he  interpreted  the  excusing  adjective  with 
austerity.  The  regularity  of  the  daily  visit 
was  not  the  least  part  of  its  value.  The  in- 
valids could  expect  it.  They  knew  that  it  was 
sure;  it  brought  a  breath  of  the  outside  world. 
Mrs.  Sprague  used  to  collect  amusing  and 
entertaining  bits  of  news  and  stories.  Some- 
times she  read  aloud.  It  was  the  custom  to 
read  aloud  in  the  last  century.  She  was  a 
charming  reader;  she  read  with  sympathy 
and  without  elocutionary  poses  —  like  a  gen- 
tlewoman, not  an  actress.  She  could  read  a 
long  while  without  tiring;  and  this  art,  which 
whiled  away  many  hours  for  her  own  father, 
xxvi 


and  which  was  a  delight  to  her  husband's 
father,  gave  her  a  multitude  of  happy  asso- 
ciations later,  for  she  often  read  to  her  hus- 
band. I  remember  her  saying  once,  "  I  some- 
times forget  books  I  read  myself,  but  never 
books  we  read  together.  There  is  a  different 
impression  made  by  a  book  one  reads  aloud; 
it  seems  to  stay." 

Her  husband  has  spoken  of  her  devotion  to 
her  nephews  and  nieces;  but  one  of  her  nieces 
has  told  the  story  from  their  point  of  view. 
Mrs.  Cabot  says :  — 

"The  single  word  that  best  characterizes 
Aunt  Lissie  is  devotion,  and  devotion  in  as 
intense  and  penetrating  a  sense  as  that  in 
which  Lincoln  uses  it  in  the  Gettysburg 
speech,  so  that  in  thinking  of  her  his  words 
arise:  'It  is  for  us  the  living  rather  to  be  dedi- 
cated here  to  that  cause  for  which  they  gave 
the  last,  full  measure  of  devotion.'  Devotion 
such  as  hers  has  its  double  aspect  of  over- 
flowing love  and  of  unswerving  loyalty.  This 
loyal  love  brought  with  it  undaunted  courage, 
the  rare  quality  of  endurance  to  the  end,  an 
entire  humility,  a  readiness  of  self-sacrifice, 
and  the  perfected  grace  of  courtesy  and  of 
xxv  ii 


constant  sunniness.  Part  of  what  made  the 
world  alive  to  us  as  children  was  her  loving 
kindness  that  overflowed  in  countless  bounty. 
It  was  as  sure,  as  steadfast,  and  as  far-reach- 
ing as  our  mother's  love;  it  went  back  to  the 
day  of  our  birth,  and  kept  those  days  with 
unforgetting  welcome.  It  was  she  who  trea- 
sured our  early  sayings  and  to  whom  they  were 
as  vivid  thirty  years  later  as  when  they  were 
uttered;  she  who  gave  the  wonderful  French 
doll,  and  she  who  made  every  one  of  its  many 
beautiful  dresses.  Her  absorption  in  our  in- 
terests was  so  great  that  we  never  doubted 
that  she  was  as  glad  to  make  marvelous  white 
and  negro  wishing-bone  dolls  with  sealing 
wax  heads  and  bead  eyes,  as  we  were  to 
receive  them.  They  were  dressed  in  the  gay- 
est and  most  varied  silks,  never  any  two  alike; 
their  sealing-wax  shoes  were  not  forgotten, 
and  they  often  had  a  necklace  of  beads  round 
their  throats.  We  did  not  ask  how  long  it 
took  to  make  them,  nor  did  she  ever  hint  at 
being  too  busy  to  give  us  all  we  wanted. 
Every  year  she  gave  me  a  birthday  party, 
and  year  by  year  it  changed  in  character  as 
she  recognized  my  need  for  different  amuse- 
ment, until  when  I  was  grown  up,  it  became 
an  evening  dance  in  her  beautiful  drawing- 
room. 


XXVlll 


"In  the  days  of  our  childhood  she  took  her 
nieces  and  nephews  on  many  exciting  jour- 
neys, to  the  Philadelphia  Centennial,  to  Niag- 
ara, to  Brattleboro;  and  it  seemed  natural 
at  the  time,  though  it  seems  amazing  jaow, 
that  her  sympathies  with  our  childish  desires 
made  her  urge  my  grandfather  to  take  the 
New  Haven  Railroad  home  instead  of  the 
Albany  solely  in  order  that  we  might  have  the 
triumph  of  saying  that  we  had  passed  through 
Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island.  These  were 
the  days,  too,  of  long  games  of  cards  with  her, 
first  solitaire  and  then  whist.  Would  any  one 
else  have  thought  of  asking  a  little  girl  who 
devotedly  loved  whist  to  play  with  a  stately, 
middle-aged  gentleman  on  an  evening  when 
his  partner  gave  out? 

"It  was  the  same  endless  devotion  that  has 
enriched  us  with  many  letters,  for  never  did 
she  forget  to  write  to  the  many  members  of 
her  family,  and  her  letters  to  those  of  us 
who  were  abroad  were  to  be  counted  on  as 
absolutely  regular  and  as  filled  with  all  the 
news  that  would  interest  us  most.  'I  can't 
possibly  do  enough  for  my  precious  chil- 
dren.' 

"  Her  letters  show  he*  never  failing  remem- 
brance of  our  tastes :  '  I  have  thought  of  dear 
Arthur  a  good  deal  to-day.   Last  year  we  were 


XXIX 


together  in  Paris,  and  I  tried  to  get  some 
mousse  au  chocolat  for  him,  but  it  was  not 
what  he  remembered,  though  called  by  the 
same  name.  Do  any  of  you  keep  stamps 
now  ?  I  will  send  for  some  if  any  of  you  want 
them,  or  will  collect  them  in  the  countries 
where  we  go.' 

"In  1882,  after  she  had  had  a  great  shock 
and  sorrow,  she  wrote :  '  I  was  as  always  most 
glad  to  receive  your  dear  letter,  and  the 
love  of  my  dear  nieces  is  even  more  pre- 
cious to  me,  if  possible.  I  shall  not  write  to 
you  at  all  about  my  sorrow,  because  I  know 
you  are  sorry  for  me,  and  I  do  not  want  to 
sadden  you.'  This  was  always  her  brave 
attitude. 

"One  rare  characteristic  of  her  sympathy 
was  that  it  included  not  only  ourselves,  but 
our  intimate  friends,  so  that  her  letters  are 
full  of  the  doings  of  our  contemporaries,  and 
they  were  so  much  with  her  that  the  name 
'Aunt  Lissie'  came  readily  to  their  lips. 

"During  our  childhood  I  associated  her 
very  much  with  dancing  school,  where  she 
knew  every  child  and  parent,  and  watched 
with  zealous  care  over  the  advance  of  her 
special  charges,  endlessly  patient  and  perse- 
vering till  every  one  could  dance  well. 

"As  I  look  back  it  seems  as  if  almost  all 


xxx 


her  time  must  have  been  passed  in  sharing 
and  enriching  our  lives,  and  yet  they  were 
the  years  when  she  was  daily  bringing  help, 
and  sunshine  to  her  own  parents  and  to  Judge 
and  Mrs.  Sprague.  Her  wonderful  embroidery 
was  of  these  days,  too,  and  beautiful  pieces 
of  lace  work  testify  to  the  devotion  that 
would  take  unwearying  pains,  and  to  the  high 
standard  that  made  her  insist  on  taking 
out  all  the  stitches  that  did  not  reach  her 
ideal. 

"There  still  hang  in  some  of  our  chambers 
another  lovely  expression  of  her  taste,  illumi- 
nated missals  in  water  color  like  those  in  old 
Liturgies,  gay  with  bright-colored  birds  and 
tracery,  and  with  some  text  woven  in  the 
centre. 

"She  was  by  nature  a  lover  of  children, 
and  having  none  of  her  own,  she  did  not  give 
up  the  hope  of  their  close  companionship, 
but  so  won  them  by  her  own  great  devotion 
that  they  were  perennially  an  intimate  part  of 
her  life. 

"'I  don't  want  the  children  who  come  to 
see  me  to  ask  for  candy,'  she  said  a  few  years 
ago,  'so  I  always  give  it  to  them  quickly  be- 
fore they  have  time  to  ask.' 

"  I  never  remember  hearing  her  say  or  imply 
that  the  care  of   children   was   any  trouble; 


XXXI 


her  accent  was  always  on  the  generosity  of 
the  parents  who  'lent'  her  their  children  for 
a  little  visit  or  pleasure  trip,  and  on  the 
'goodness'  of  the  children  in  being  willing  to 
come. 

"Her  devotion,  so  constant  always,  was 
trebled  when  any  one  of  us  was  ill.  During 
a  long  illness  of  mine  some  years  ago,  she 
sent  me  every  day  some  different  token,  a 
wax  blackberry,  a  flowering  azalea,  a  decora- 
tive tape  measure,  or  a  book.  When  I  thanked 
her  for  them  she  called  these  gifts  'little  duds,' 
and  utterly  minimized  the  trouble  and  thought 
it  must  have  taken  to  daily  devise  and  bring 
to  me  something  new.  On  another  occasion, 
one  of  her  nephews  had  what  was  at  first 
called  scarlet  fever,  but  which  turned  out  to 
be  the  first  case  of  an  epidemic  of  German 
measles  which  ran  through  the  entire  family. 
Contagion  was  no  barrier  to  her,  and  she  vis- 
ited us  every  day.  When  a  few  weeks  later, 
she  found  that  she  had  caught  the  infection, 
she  acted  in  her  characteristic  way.  She  went 
into  her  spare-room,  taking  with  her  a  supply 
of  books  to  read,  gave  orders  that  food  should 
be  left  at  her  door,  admitted  no  one,  took  the 
entire  care  of  her  room,  and  when  the  rash 
disappeared,  threw  the  sheets  and  mattress 
out  of  the  window,  so  that  they  might  be  thor- 


XXXI 1 


oughly  aired  before  any  one  had  to  handle 
them. 

"Even  in  writing  only  of  her  relation  to 
her  nieces  and  nephews,  no  account  would  In- 
adequate which  did  not  speak  of  her  tie...  to 
King's  Chapel,  for  we  all  felt  its  influence 
in  her  life,  all  knew  that  whatever  the  church 
needed  in  money,  in  committee  work,  in  the 
development  of  stronger  ties  among  its  mem- 
bers, she  would  always  respond  whole  heart- 
edly  to  the  need.  It  counted  greatly  to  us  also 
that  we  often  found  her  waiting  to  greet  us  at 
the  door  of  the  church  with  a  warmth  that 
never  grew  less,  however  frequent  the  meet- 
ings. 

"Up  till  within  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years 
she  often  went  abroad  for  the  summer;  arid 
then  her  eager  inquiry  was  as  to  what  she 
could  buy  for  us.  To  secure  in  Paris  the 
entire  outfit  of  a  debutante  was  to  her  'no 
trouble  at  all,'  and  I  doubt  if  she  ever  went 
abroad  without  a  long  list  of  commissions  or 
returned  without  a  specially  chosen  present  for 
each  child.  So  at  Christmas,  in  order  to  get 
the  very  best  and  newest  gifts,  she  took  a 
yearly  trip  to  New  York,  and  because  it  was 
great  fun  to  go  to  New  York,  she  often  took  a 
niece  with  her. 

"Through  all  the  years  up  to  1892  her  life 
xxxiii 


was  one  of  intense  and  unwearied  devotion  to 
her  family  and  friends,  to  the  needs  of  the 
church,  and  to  charitable  societies,  but  it  had 
not  yet  reached  out  to  take  part  in  the  wel- 
fare of  the  city,  and  had  not  yet  found  the 
relations  to  people  all  over  the  country  which 
added  so  greatly  to  the  richness  of  the  last 
twelve  years. 

"In  1892  Mrs.  John  Lowell,  wife  of  her 
elder  brother,  was  severely  injured  by  an 
electric  car;  and  I  think  that  it  was  her  feeling 
that  under  safer  conditions  this  catastrophe 
might  have  been  avoided  which  led  her  to 
strive  for  a  change  in  the  system  of  running 
these  cars  and  to  support  and  work  for  the 
passage  of  a  law  requiring  a  subway  under 
Tremont  Street.  During  the  agitation  of  this 
bill,  she  became  familiar  with  legislative  hear- 
ings, with  members  of  the  House  and  the 
Senate,  and  with  the  lawyers  on  both  sides. 
Her  interest  grew  and  she  took  part  in  efforts 
to  protect  the  Common,  to  prevent  high 
buildings  in  certain  sections  of  the  city,  and 
to  enforce  the  law  when  it  was  violated.  No 
winter  passed  that  she  was  not  interested  in 
some  such  measure,  and  the  eagerness  these 
interests  added  to  her  life  was  beautiful  to 
watch.  She  still  found  time  to  welcome  all 
the  nieces  and  great-nieces  and  nephews,  from 

xxxiv 


the  little  one  who  came  nearly  every  day  to 
the  school  girls  who  dropped  in  with  their 
friends  at  recess,  and  the  elder  nieces  and 
nephews  who  came  for  her  wise  counsel  and 
for  the  constant  sunshine  of  her  presence. 
Her  public  interest  only  strengthened  her 
family  life,  and  gave  to  all  who  knew  her  the 
wonderful  inspiration  of  a  growing  life  which 
makes  age  seem  wholly  irrelevant.  Her  life 
became  more  and  more  what  Shakespeare 
expresses  in  the  words  of  Juliet :  — 

"  '  My  bounty  is  as  boundless  as  the  Sea, 
My  love  as  deep  ;  the  more  I  give  to  thee 
The  more  I  have,  for  both  are  infinite.'  " 

The  same  note  of  loving  gratitude  and  strong 
admiration  is  struck  by  all  the  large  company 
of  her  nieces  and  nephews,  and  by  their 
children.  One  speech  out  of  many  may  be 
given  here;  it  is  that  of  a  nephew  very  dear 
to  her. 

"I  do  not  remember,"  he  said,  "any  time 
of  life  when  a  meeting  did  not  make  the  day 
happier  and  encourage  me,  even  when  a  little 
boy,  if  things  went  wrong.  That  kindly  sym- 
pathy of  hers  understood  so  well,  while  it  com- 
forted, and  never  lost  its  nameless  charm  as 
I  grew  older,  but  was  as  fresh  and  grateful  to 

XXXV 


me  the  last  time  I  saw  her  as  when  I  first 
remember  it." 

Dr.  Sprague  has  quoted  the  affecting  testi- 
mony of  one  who  had  been  in  Mrs.  Sprague's 
household.  She  truly  represents  those  who 
are  often  closer  observers  of  us  than  many  of 
our  own  blood.  My  friend  was  loved  by  them 
who  served  her.  It  was  a  mutual  affection 
and  respect.  And  I  found  it  easy  to  believe 
the  niece  who  said  to  me,  once,  speaking  of 
the  general  household  unrest,  the  quicksands 
of  shifting  service,  and  the  consequent  domes- 
tic cataclysms,  "That  was  one  thing  about 
Aunt  Lissie;  she  never  had  domestic  cata- 
clysms!" 

Remembering  the  warm  terms  in  which 
she  spoke  of  her  domestic  helpers  and  the  con- 
sideration which  she  showed  in  a  rare  degree, 
one  might  give  a  guess  at  the  reason  for  her 
immunity.  But  there  was  more  than  justice 
and  kindness  in  the  ordering  of  her  household ; 
there  was  the  ability  of  the  born  executive, 
and  the  taste  of  the  lover  of  beauty  who  had 
grown  up  amid  beautiful  things.  The  machin- 
xxxvi 


ery  never  creaked  in  her  establishment.  Ex- 
quisite cooking  and  service,  dainty  care  of 
details  came  so  naturally  that  the  guest —  who 
did  not  keep  house  —  might  fancy  they  were 
spontaneous,  that  like  Topsy  "they  growed." 

In  her  wide  charities  there  appears  con- 
tinually the  same  "understanding  heart." 
"I  really  can't  expect  a  woman  to  have  more 
of  the  virtues  than  I  have  myself  simply  be- 
cause she  is  poor,"  she  said  to  me  once.  "We 
ought  to  expect  a  great  deal  less  of  the  very 
poor  than  of  ourselves;  sometimes  I  think  we 
expect  more." 

A  certain  society  to  which  she  belonged  had 
the  care  of  poor  widows.  Mrs.  Sprague  vis- 
ited the  widows,  she  found  out  their  pitiful 
histories,  she  helped  them  not  only  in  what 
is  called  a  substantial  fashion,  but  with  what 
is  often  the  most  real  of  help,  comprehension 
and  good  will.  She  never  read  them  moral 
lectures.  She  heard  their  confidences,  making 
her  shrewd,  humorous,  kindly  comments  much 
as  she  might  make  them  to  a  friend  of  her 
own  class.  When  she  gave  advice  it  was 
always  in  response  to  a  demand,  and  given 


XXX  VI 1 


with  such  an  incidental  casual  air  that  like 
drugs  in  the  modern  capsule,  it  was  felt  but 
not  tasted! 

People  do  not  abandon  their  names  because 
they  enter  an  institution,  and  they  like  to  be 
called  by  them.  Mrs.  Sprague  always  re- 
membered the  names  of  those  whom  she  vis- 
ited. She  kept  their  circumstances  apart,  and 
did  n't  inquire  for  the  crippled  son  with  six 
children  of  the  widow  who  had  only  one  blind 
spinster  daughter.  She  was  quite  as  carefully 
polite  with  them  as  with  her  friends.  They 
felt  —  and  with  justice  —  that  it  was  they 
themselves  that  interested  her;  they  were 
not  merely  a  charitable  "case."  This  respect 
for  unfortunate  people's  personality  may  be 
the  secret  of  the  love  which  so  many  had  for 
the  Lowell  sisters. 

Resolutions  of  the  societies  to  which  she 
belonged  have  a  note  of  feeling  not  often 
found  in  official  resolutions.  A  paper  read  at 
the  Widows'  Society,  October  5,  1904,  says: 
"  She  was  the  last  of  three  sisters  whose  mem- 
ories will  ever  be  dear  to  the  heart  of  many 
a  poor  woman  and  many  a  friend."  On  the 
xxxviii 


part  of  the  quaintly  named  society,  "The 
Needlewomen's  Friend,"  in  which  she  be- 
came a  manager  in  1866  and  vice-president 
in  1877,  holding  this  latter  office  till  her  death, 
the  secretary  says:  "I  cannot  express  to  you 
how  much  we  miss  her  from  our  meetings. 
She  was  so  regular  in  her  attendance  that  we 
never  commenced  our  meetings  until  she 
came,  unless  we  were  sure  that  she  was  not 
coming.  She  had  been  connected  with  the 
society  longer  than  any  one  living  now.  Her 
pleasant  cordial  manner  made  her  beloved 
by  all,  and  especially  by  the  younger  members 
of  the  board." 

Dr.  Sprague  has  spoken  of  the  fight  made 
for  the  subway.  Of  a  kindred  nature  was  the 
warfare  on  the  high  buildings.  The  owners 
of  one  notorious  skyscraper  determined  in 
their  own  minds  that  possession  of  the  air  on 
the  earth  was  nine  points  of  the  law.  There- 
fore they  ran  up  their  building  craftily,  and 
before  their  intent  was  suspected  were  bat- 
tering the  horizon  far  above  the  sky-line.  In 
that  locality  the  law  forbade  a  height  over 
ninety  feet. 

xxxix 


"They  can't  build  above  ninety  feet,"  said 
Mrs.  Sprague  to  the  desponding  good  citi- 
zens who  mourned,  but  had  no  plan  of  re- 
dress. 

"But  they  have  built,"  was  the  dejected 
reply.   "What  can  we  do  about  it?" 

"Make  them  come  down,"  said  Mrs. 
Sprague,  undaunted.  And  this  very  thing  was 
done.  After  every  legal  device  of  obstruction 
had  been  used  in  vain,  the  illegal  addition  was 
taken  down. 

Another  example  of  the  family  spirit  is 
given  merely  as  an  instance.  All  her  life  Mrs. 
Sprague  was  deeply  attached  to  King's  Chapel. 
Her  whole  family  had  this  attachment;  it  was 
inherited  like  their  coat-of-arms  and  their 
sense  of  humor. 

At  one  time  attendance  on  a  special  yearly 
service  waned  to  a  painful  leanness.  Light- 
minded  people  said,  why  not  abandon  the 
service;  nobody  but  the  Lowells  came.  The 
remark  reached  the  Lowell  family,  and  they 
rose  as  one  man  —  or  one  woman.  They  has- 
tened to  interest  nearly  every  member  of  the 
congregation  in  the  service.   One  of  them  even 

xl 


took  her  little  daughter  to  it  because  she  said 
every  one  counted.  In  the  end  an  amazed 
rector  gazed  upon  the  big  square  red-cushioned 
pews  overflowing  with  heads.  The  special 
yearly  service  was  not  abandoned. 

It  was  through  her  sister,  Mrs.  Blake,  and 
her  niece,  Mrs.  Clarke,  that  Mrs.  Sprague's 
interest  was  enlisted  in  the  Society  of  Colonial 
Dames.  Mrs.  Blake,  Mrs.  Hale,  Mrs.  Clarke, 
Mrs.  Sprague,  were  among  the  incorporators 
of  the  society.  Mrs.  Blake  was  the  second 
president.  Mrs.  Hale  was  vice-president; 
later  (after  Mrs.  Blake's  death)  president  of 
the  society.  Mrs.  Sprague  was  registrar,  and 
her  niece,  Mrs.  Clarke,  historian.  The  first 
Board  of  Managers  was  a  band  of  kindred 
and  intimate  friends.  From  the  beginning, 
beside  their  fundamental,  patriotic,  and  pious 
ends,  which  the  national  constitution  recites, 
they  worked  for  two  objects:  to  knit  closer 
the  ties  between  the  widely  scattered  daugh- 
ters of  the  makers  of  Massachusetts,  and  to 
renew  the  ancient  kindliness  between  the 
States.  The  story  has  been  told  more  than 
once,  but  it  has  its  place  here,    how  at  the 

xli 


council  held  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish  War, 
during  which  the  method  of  aiding  the  sol- 
diers and  sailors  came  up,  there  was  an  inevit- 
able recurrence  of  memory  and  speech  to  the 
Sanitary  Commission.  Finally  there  was  a 
proposal  to  call  the  proposed  organization  of 
aid  in  the  society  by  the  old  name.  Mrs. 
Sprague,  Mrs.  Blake,  and  Mrs.  Hale  had  been 
ardent  workers  in  the  day  of  the  Commission, 
and  although  Mrs.  Clarke  was  too  young  to 
have  taken  part  in  the  Civil  War,  all  the  tra- 
ditions of  her  own  family  and  of  the  Clarkes 
were  intensely  Federal;  yet  so  delicately  and 
with  such  sympathetic  wisdom  did  they  help 
Mrs.  Blake's  proposal  to  substitute  another 
title  for  a  name  laden  with  so  many  cruel 
memories  to  the  South,  that  they  won  the 
gratitude  of  every  Southern  State.  In  that 
they  had  the  cooperation  of  the  whole  Massa- 
chusetts delegation;  Mrs.  Blake's  substitute, 
"The  National  Relief  Association,"  was 
adopted.  At  the  close  of  the  council  some  of 
the  South  Carolina  dames  came  to  where  the 
two  sisters,  their  niece,  and  Mrs.  Hale  were 
standing,   and  one  of  them,   extending  both 

xlii 


hands  to  Mrs.  Blake,  cried,  "Massachusetts, 
we  have  loved  you!" 

Undoubtedly  the  relief  work  drew  North 
and  South  closely  together,  and  the  affection- 
ate regard  which  had  its  birth  in  that  season 
of  sorrow  and  courage  has  steadily  grown 
deeper  and  stronger.  We  may  say  now  that 
there  is  an  absolute  obliteration  of  sectional 
feeling  in  the  councils. 

Mrs.  Sprague's  sunny  humor  and  her  toler- 
ant friendliness  were  a  potent  help  in  this 
work,  and  her  position  as  registrar  made  her 
of  equal  value  among  the  Western  States. 
She  went  to  endless  trouble  to  hunt  up  missing 
links  in  genealogical  lines.  In  those  earlier 
days  —  we  do  things  better  in  the  associate 
States  now  —  some  of  the  papers  nearly  gave 
the  genealogists  apoplexy  they  were  so  con- 
fused, so  deficient,  and  so  artlessly  careless 
of  authority.  No  one  could  appreciate  order 
or  precision  —  or  practice  it  —  better  than 
she  ;  but  where  other  registrars  might  return 
the  erring  paper  with  a  crisp  comment,  in- 
variably she  took  pains  to  write  at  length, 
without   criticism,    but   with   the   pleasantest 

xliii 


sympathy  and  the  most  illuminating  ex- 
planation of  what  was  needed. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  she  never 
had  a  correspondent  for  any  length  of  time 
who  did  not  become  her  warm  friend. 

I  remember  so  many,  so  very  many,  who 
came  to  me  during  the  last  council  of  the 
society  to  ask  about  her,  to  regret  her  absence, 
and  to  say  heartfelt  words  of  gratitude  and 
affection.  "All  I  want  to  know,"  said  one 
delegate,  "is  where  Mrs.  Sprague  stands  in 
this  matter;  that's  where  /  am!  She  has  stud- 
ied it  up  in  all  its  aspects ,  and  I  have  unlimited 
confidence  in  her." 

From  all  over  the  country  when  Mrs. 
Sprague  died,  there  came  words  of  sympathy 
and  grief  to  her  husband  and  nieces.  A  single 
extract  will  show  how  her  influence  was  felt 
and  how  she  was  loved  by  those  who  had  never 
seen  her  face. 

"Her  death  came  to  us  as  a  personal  loss, 
as  she  had  endeared  herself  to  our  hearts 
through  her  charming  letters  extending  over 
a  period  of  more  than  ten  years.  There  was 
a  sympathetic  magnetism  in  the  utterances  of 

xliv 


her  pen,  which  never  failed  to  impress  us  that 
she  was  one  of  the  truest  of  friends,  although 
we  have  never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
her.  Her  refined  courtesy,  genuine  interest, 
and  warm  sympathy  made  her  year  by  year 
seem  nearer  to  us;  therefore  we  were  greatly 
overcome  when  the  message  came  that  she 
had  passed  to  the  higher  life. 

"Mrs.  Sprague's  influence  was  far-reach- 
ing, and  she  will  be  missed  and  mourned  by 
a  very  large  circle  of  friends.  We  cherish  the 
sweet,  kind,  consolatory  letter  she  wrote  to  us 
in  our  recent  bereavement.  The  memory  of 
her  true,  beautiful  Christian  life  will  be  ever 
an  inspiration  and  solace  to  our  sorrowing 
hearts." 

It  is  not  always  that  charm  and  business 
ability  are  combined  in  a  woman.  Mrs. 
Sprague  inherited  her  mother's  charm  and 
her  father's  power  of  organization  and  ex- 
traordinary mastery  of  all  the  details  of  work. 
Her  mind  worked  with  swiftness  and  accu- 
racy, and  so  admirable  was  her  system  that 
no  accumulation  of  work  or  sudden  stress 
ever  excited  her.  Many  are  the  testimonials 
to  the  accuracy  with  which  she  kept  all  the 
records  of  her  office  as  registrar;    and  no  one 

xlv 


offers  ampler  testimony  to  the  value  of  her 
work  than  her  successor  in  the  office,  while 
the  present  president  of  the  society  said :  — 

"Words  are  inadequate  to  express  our  feel- 
ing at  the  loss  of  Mrs.  Sprague.  Her  interest 
in  the  society,  her  knowledge  of  its  affairs, 
her  wisdom,  her  judgment,  and  her  kindness 
made  her  indispensable  to  the  Colonial  Dames 
of  Massachusetts.  We  are  indeed  like  a  ship 
without  a  rudder." 

Mrs.  Cabot's  words  regarding  the  hospi- 
tality and  the  lavish  generosity  of  her  aunt's 
heart  are  echoed  by  all  who  knew  her  well, 
not  only  by  those  whom  she  loved,  but  by 
that  larger  circle  who  did  not  know  her  inti- 
mately. She  had  the  great  gift  of  genuine 
interest  in  many  people.  Often  the  women  of 
our  New  England  race  love  a  few  intensely, 
while  they  have  merely  a  tepid  feeling  of  good 
will  towards  the  most  of  their  acquaintance. 
My  friend  loved  with  a  wonderful  passion 
of  devotion  those  who  were  nearest  of  all, 
yet  she  kept  a  wide  and  widening  enjoyment 
of  the  multitude  outside.  Truly  said  one 
who  knew  her  well  that  "  she  made  friends  as 

xlvi 


long  as  she  lived,  but  she  never  gave  up  an 
old  one." 

And  another  in  the  circle  of  those  remoter 
friends,  herself  far  younger  than  Mrs.  Sprague, 
and  seeing  her  but  seldom,  has  expressed  a 
kindred  feeling. 

"How  she  will  be  missed!"  she  wrote. 
"Even  I  who  knew  her  slightly  can  realize 
that.  It  used  to  give  me  a  glow  of  pleasure 
every  time  I  met  her  in  the  street  or  anywhere, 
her  smile  and  glance  were  so  kindly  and 
cheery." 

After  Mrs.  Sprague's  death  a  number  of 
letters  came  to  the  writer  from  her  friends 
and  members  of  the  Society  of  Colonial  Dames. 
A  striking  feature  in  these  letters  is  the  stress 
laid  by  every  writer  upon  her  sympathy, 
which  was  not  only  consoling  but  inspiring. 
She  never  belittled  her  friends'  troubles,  but 
she  never  despaired  of  them,  either.  If  there 
was  a  gleam  of  hope  to  be  found  for  a  situa- 
tion she  found  it;  if  not,  she  was  sure  it  was 
there ! 

Some  vivid  quality  in  her  cheerfulness  de- 
fied those  strong  years  that  dull  as  they  con- 

xlvii 


quer.  It  was  not  the  less  vivid  that  it  was  so 
quiet  and  sane.  One  could  not  be  with  her 
without  believing  more  in  the  duty  of  tran- 
quil happiness.  That  she  was  a  happy  woman 
herself,  in  spite  of  many  cruel  griefs,  impressed 
one  most  of  all.  No  doubt  her  sunny  temper- 
ament was  helped  by  her  happiness  in  the 
closest  relation  of  life.  She  not  only  loved  her 
brothers  and  sisters,  her  nephews  and  nieces, 
she  enjoyed  their  society  with  a  frank  plea- 
sure that  was  beautiful  to  see.  With  the  deep 
happiness  of  her  married  life  a  stranger  may 
not  intermeddle;  yet  no  one  ever  was  in  her 
home  who  did  not  feel  its  presence. 

"Her  married  life,"  says  one  who  has  a 
right  to  speak,  "was  one  of  rare  and  ever 
increasing  beauty.  More  and  more  upon  her 
and  her  husband  shone  the  grace  of  lovers, 
and  more  and  more  they  exemplified  the  beau- 
tiful comradeship  of  workers  for  mutual  and 
noble  ends." 

Perhaps  nothing  in  that  charming  house 
impressed  those  of  the  younger  generation 
more  than  the  delicate  courtesy  shown  by 
master  and  mistress  to  each  other,  quite  as 

xlviii 


much  as  to  their  guests.  Mrs.  Sprague's  po- 
liteness was  indeed  not  a  graft,  it  belonged  to 
the  intimate  texture  of  her  soul.  She  learned 
its  gracious  manner  of  expression  at  her  mo- 
ther's knee,  but  the  constant  thought  for 
others  which  was  the  root  grew  out  of  her  un- 
selfishness. How  rare,  how  unconscious,  how 
pervading,  that  unselfishness  was!  How  it 
bound  the  hearts  of  her  friends  to  her  with 
the  subtlest  but  the  most  compelling  force! 
Over  and  over,  too  often  to  be  enumerated, 
their  grief  for  her  told  the  same  story :  — 

"She  was  the  most  sincere,  loyal,  and  lov- 
ing friend,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  many  others ; 
and  the  most  unselfish  woman  I  have  ever 
known." 

"  She  was  a  woman  of  wonderful  courage  and 
endurance  and  self-control,  and  more  than  all, 
unselfish  for  others." 

"To  see  her  kindly  smile  approaching  in 
the  street  was  to  feel  that  help  and  comfort 
were  at  hand." 

"  She  was  a  tower  of  strength  to  her  friends 
in  the  emergencies  of  life,  but  she  was  a  con- 
tinual giver  of  small  pleasures  as  well." 

xlix 


A  multitude  of  such  tributes  came  from 
those  who  mourned  her. 

One  who  was  of  no  kinship  to  her  which 
they  could  trace,  but  whom  she  affectionately 
called  "Cousin,"  once  described  graphically 
Mrs.  Sprague's  Christmas  shopping. 

"Mrs.  Sprague  always  likes  to  go  to  New 
York  about  Christmas  time  because  she  can 
find  different  Christmas  gifts  there,  you  know, 
for  her  many  nephews  and  nieces,  and  this  to 
her  is  a  great  pleasure.  Dr.  Sprague  sees  to 
it  that  besides  the  shopping  they  see  any  good 
play  running,  and  that  Mrs.  Sprague  does  n't 
tire  herself.  I  say  they  run  away  to  have  a 
good  time." 

Certainly  Mrs.  Sprague's  radiant  face,  as 
she  described  one  of  those  times  to  me,  bore 
out  the  description. 

Mrs.  Cabot  has  spoken  of  these  Christmas 
gifts.  They  were  chosen  not  only  with  her 
beautiful  taste,  but  with  a  never  failing  mem- 
ory of  individual  preference.  Only  one  at 
once  unselfish  and  keenly  observing  could  so 
remember  the  circumstances  and  the  wishes 
of  her  friends.    Such  thoughtfulness  takes  an 

1 


enormous  amount  of  time.  But  hers,  as  one 
of  her  cousins  wrote,  truly  was  "a  life  that 
never  knew  lack  of  time  when  there  was  a 
duty  to  be  done  or  a  kindness  to  be  rendered." 
In  the  same  strain  her  kinswoman  and  life- 
long friend  paints  her  portrait :  — 

"If  I  were  asked  to  describe  in  a  few  words 
what  Lissie  was,  I  should  say  there  were  two 
things  which  always  stood  out  in  my  thoughts 
of  her  character.  First,  her  tender  and  unself- 
ish devotion  to  others,  the  warm  sympathy 
and  constancy  to  her  friends,  united  with 
great  kindness  to  every  one. 

"And  next,  what  is  perhaps  quite  as  rare, 
the  way  in  which  she  kept  on  growing  to  the 
end,  so  that  she  was  a  finer  woman  at  fifty 
than  at  thirty,  and  yet  more  unusual,  still 
finer  at  seventy  than  at  fifty. 

"And  so  we  who  have  loved  her  could  not 
help  loving  her  more  and  more  as  the  years 
went  by,  finding  more  to  love." 

While  her  sympathy  most  impressed  her 
newer  friends,  her  loyalty  is  as  tenderly  re- 
membered by  the  older  ones.  One  who  knew 
her  for  many  years  says :  — 

li 


"It  was  more  a  continually  meeting  and 
interchanging  of  thoughts  and  personal  con- 
fidences than  anything  else  —  a  knowledge 
of  each  other's  family  interests  and  circum- 
stances, unknown  to  other  friends;  and  as 
one  by  one  our  families  dropped  away,  we 
clung  closer  and  felt  we  were  nearer  and  more 
dependent  upon  each  other.  To  me  her  loss 
is  irreparable!  No  one  can  take  her  place. 
And  now  I  on  my  journey  all  alone  proceed. 
And  I  must  be  reconciled  because  she  is  no 
longer  suffering,  and  God  has  given  her  rest; 
and  in  another  world  in  which  she  firmly  be- 
lieved, she  sees  the  faces  of  those  she  so  much 
loved." 

And  another  writes :  — 

"She  was  my  earliest  friend  when  we  were 
eight  years  old,  and  I  came  with  my  parents 
for  a  visit.  After  I  was  married  and  had  not 
one  relation  in  all  Boston,  she  renewed  the 
old  friendship,  and  made  me  feel  at  home. 
The  most  loyal,  kindly,  tender  of  friends.  I 
feel  desolate  without  her." 

All  her  old  friends  mention  her  courage, 
which  faced  life  and  death  with  a  smile.  Hers 
was  not  only  the  courage  of  action  and  excite- 
ment, but  the  calm  fortitude  so  much  rarer. 

lii 


"  I  recall  her  serene  face,"  said  one  friend, 
speaking  of  her  at  the  last,  "her  patience  and 
quiet  acceptance  of  pain,  her  resignation  as 
she  put  aside  one  thing  after  another,  not 
understanding,  yet  smiling  and  willing." 

No  mention  of  my  friend  would  be  com- 
plete that  did  not  touch  on  a  trait  which  made 
much  for  her  happiness,  her  love  of  beauty. 
She  had   an  instinct  for  beauty  in  material 
things,  in  art  or  literature,  from  whence  came 
what  we  call  so  lightly  "a  charming  taste;" 
and  it  was  reflected  in  her  homes,  whether  in 
the   stately   elegance   of   the   great   house   in 
Boston,  or  in  the  simpler  but  not  less  dainty 
old-time  'plenishing  of  the  house  on  the  rocks 
at  Nahant.     But  the  pleasure  which  beauty 
of  this  sort  brought  her  is  not  comparable  with 
the  happiness  given  her  by  her  love  of  nature. 
From  her  childish  days  amid  the  green  fields 
and  the  woods  of  Roxbury  to  the  last  of  her 
life  she  felt  the  enchantment  of  the  sun.    She 
loved  the  rich  bronze  on  the  tree  trunks,  the 
moist  grays  on  the  rocks,  the    jeweled  glow 
of   the   green   hillsides,   the   changing   mould 
and  hues  of  the  waves,  the  violet  shadows  of 

liii 


the  snow.  And  she  loved  the  sea  as  the  Swiss 
love  their  mountains.  She  delighted  in  every 
mood  of  the  ocean.  It  was  always  a  happy 
moment  when  the  household  moved  to  their 
Nahant  home.  The  Nahant  house  was  charm- 
ing in  every  way,  furnished  with  the  old  fam- 
ily treasures  of  Chippendale  and  Sheraton, 
and  having  a  situation  on  the  rocks  which 
poised  it  like  a  ship  above  the  waves. 

Mrs.  Blake  used  to  say  to  those  who  ad- 
mired the  beautiful  view  from  her  own  house 
by  the  sea,  "Ah,  but  you  should  see  my  sis- 
ter's view;  the  ships  come  in  to  her  dining- 
room  windows!" 

The  sunsets  at  Nahant  were  pageants.  A 
letter  to  a  niece  describes  one  of  them  with 
loving  and  vivid  touches. 

"The  evening  that  you  left  us  we  had  the 
most  wonderful  sunset  I  ever  remember,  and 
we  did  so  wish  for  you  and  Julia  to  see  it. 
On  the  one  side  the  lovely  roseate  glow,  and 
at  the  other  end  of  the  piazza  the  moon  al- 
ready high  enough  for  quite  a  wake,  and  yet 
daylight  enough  to  distinguish  the  deep  blue 
of  the  sea,  and  the  green  of  the  grass,  and 
several  white  sails.   It  was  really  enchanting." 

liv 


The  last  time  I  saw  Nahant  the  west  was 
faintly  crimsoning  in  the  glow  of  such  a  sun- 
set, and  its  glory  was  on  her  face  and  her  smile, 
as  standing  by  her  husband's  side  she  waved 
us  farewell. 

She  was  preparing  to  go  to  the  sea  the  May 
in  which  she  died.  Her  illness  was  of  several 
weeks'  duration,  but  until  the  last  few  days 
she  went  downstairs  every  day,  and  in  spite 
of  almost  constant  pain  she  was  her  own  cheer- 
ful self.  Once  I  said  to  her,  "I  always  heard 
that  intercostal  neuralgia  was  so  painful; 
doesn't  it  hurt  you  all  the  time?"  She 
laughed.  "Well,  I  know  it's  there  /"  said  she. 
Her  gayety,  her  splendid  vitality,  her  interest 
in  every  personal  or  public  detail,  were  so  un- 
abated that  her  death  came  as  a  shock  even 
to  her  nearest  friends.  They  could  not  real- 
ize a  bravery  which  made  so  light  of  pain. 
Yet  in  truth  it  was  not  so  much  because  she 
was  stoical  as  because  she  was  loving  and 
unselfish  that  so  far  as  in  her  lay  she  spared 
those  who  loved  her  the  knowledge  of  her  suf- 
fering. To  the  very  end  she  smiled  her  thanks 
and  love. 

lv 


And  to  us  still  who  loved  her  she  is  always 
smiling;  it  seems  the  noblest  and  the  rarest 
part  of  her  who  had  so  many  rare  and  noble 
traits,  this  faithful  cheerfulness  which  irra- 
diated from  her  brave  soul,  blessing  all  who 
felt  its  light,  and  of  which  the  very  memory 
lifts  our  fainter  hearts. 


MDCCCXXXI  v  MCMIV 


lvi 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


III  I  I 


AA    000  786  059    6 


